


worth it

by Anonymous



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Ace Subtype: Sex Repulsed, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Asexual Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Internalized Acephobia, M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Male Character, implied past sexual abuse, is not relevant for the fic but he is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29239014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: continuation of aunt_zelda’s “I Have No Head For Wine”, where Martin discovers that Jon has been lying to him all this time, and they have a hard time before I let them have nice things.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 11
Kudos: 98
Collections: Anonymous





	worth it

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [aunt_zelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda). Log in to view. 



> this won't make much sense if you haven't read "I Have No Head For Wine"

When he leaves work on Friday, Jon just wants to go home, crawl to the sofa, curl up with a blanket and let himself be comforted.

But of course the bus is late, because if there was something else that can go wrong today... He’s having some bad cramps since lunch that are only receding now, slowly, but the headache he’d woke up with has, conversely, been getting worse through the day. A screaming class of teenagers who are excited for the spring holidays doesn’t exactly help. But the worst part has been, without question, the meeting.

A lovely talk with one of his students’ mother. He shouldn’t have to explain to an adult woman why is important that her child with ADHD takes his medication and receives the attention he needs, but there he was. Trying to stay calm while some anti-vaxxer demands that her son gets treated ‘like a normal kid’. And then she threatens to report him and the school for ‘bullying her child’. Thank God teaching is the noblest profession.

He finally gets home, and hears Martin greeting him cheerfully from the kitchen, which automatically makes his day better. He is in the kitchen, probably making tea, and, unlike Jon, he is in a great mood, talking animatedly about the new article he’s writing.

Jon only half listens from the living room, waiting for him on the sofa. He desperately wants Martin to come here and touch him. Honestly, he can’t wait for this day to be over. But he doesn’t want to ruin Martin’s good mood.

So instead, he gets up from the couch and goes to the kitchen. “I’m so glad the new job is going so well.” He loops his arms around Martin’s waist. “You know? I think we should celebrate,” he says, placing a kiss on Martin’s nape.

“Oh, do you.” Martin turns around, wide smile on his face, and wraps his arms around Jon in return. That’s better.

From then on it’s easy. They move from the kitchen to the bedroom, where their clothes get quickly discarded, until Martin is lying on top of him on the bed.

Normally, Jon would easily slip into his usual performance, and Martin wouldn’t notice anything wrong. But today he feels tired and stiff, unable to relax. And Martin notices, of course.

“Are you tired? You sure you want to do this now?”

“Well, a little, but this is helping” Jon reassures him, smiling. He forces himself to relax, trying to remember how he normally does this. Perform your role. React how you should react.

Martin clearly wants this. He’s being more enthusiastic than usual, and moving faster from step to step. When Martin’s finger presses inside him, Jon isn’t quite ready, and he can’t completely suppress the face he makes.

“Are you sure you are feeling well, Jon.” Martin looks at him from above, a little concerned frown between his eyes.

“Yes.” To prove it, he kisses him again, mouth demanding. Martin hesitates just for a moment, but then he returns the kiss eagerly, opening his mouth to meet his tongue.

Martin’s hands are on his hair, stroking his back, holding him close. That’s all Jon needs. Everything else doesn’t matter.

Jon rolls down on his belly, as usual. He prefers this position. This way he can hide his face from Martin.

Martin pushes himself inside and Jon doesn’t care because his hands are on his side, his lips brushing his neck. But then Martin pushes himself up, and his hands leave him. They are on the sheet at Jon’s sides, not touching him.

That’s not right. Martin always touches him. Always. He makes love to Jon with such tenderness, that sometimes Jon doesn’t even have to fake his reactions. Martin knows how much Jon likes it when he is soft with him. And Jon has grown accustomed to his constant caresses, his kisses, the adoring words he whispers while he fucks him.

And this is not that. This is the exact opposite of what he needs. He can’t take this right now. In any other moment, if he were feeling better, he could have gone with it. Endure it. For Martin.

But at this moment, he can feel the disgust coiling rapidly in his stomach, mixed with a sense of helplessness, of wrongness. This isn’t fair. He can’t contain the sudden nausea that overtakes him. His whole body convulses and he makes a broken noise, and suddenly he is crying. Openly, desperately, no option to hide.

It’s all so quick. Martin hasn’t realized yet. How something has gone terribly wrong. How the noises that Jon is making are the wrong ones.

“Martin, please, stop.”

He stops at once, pulling out. “Jon?” He sounds distressed. Jon feels Martin’s hand on his shoulder, trying to make him look at him. “What’s wrong? Jon?”

The tears won’t stop. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry Martin. I can’t do this. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Martin looks confused, but mostly worried. He doesn’t know what’s going on. How could he? Jon has made sure that he would never notice anything out of the ordinary.

“I hate this.”

“Wha—?”

“I hate this. The sex. I can’t— I can’t stand it.” He looks up at Martin through the tears. He realizes he is shaking violently when Martin’s hand retreats from his arm like he’s been burned.

“What?” He looks completely shocked.

Jon freezes. No. Why did he say that. He can’t say that. He takes in a shuddering breath. He has to fix this. “Sorry. That’s not what I meant.” He avoids Martin’s eyes. He’s never been able to lie openly to his face. He forces himself to calm down. “What— what I was trying to say is that right now— yes, right now I don’t feel like having sex. That’s it.” He desperately tries to still his trembling.

“What are you talking about.” Martin’s voice is suddenly like ice. “Jon, you just had a panic attack while having sex. You are crying! And you just said… you said that you hated it. That you can’t stand it.”

With every word, Jon finds it harder and harder to breathe. “It was just—”

“No.” Martin doesn’t shout, but his eyes are cold, seeing straight through his flimsy lies. “Don’t lie to me. What was that.”

Jon opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He closes his eyes. It’s easier like this. “I don’t like sex. I’ve never had. I’m sorry, Martin.”

He opens his eyes again and, God. He’s going to remember Martin’s face at this moment for every second of the rest of his miserable life. As he slowly processes Jon’s words and what they mean. He looks so hurt. Betrayed. Heartbroken. And Jon did this to him.

“How could you lie to me like this,” Martin’s voice is quiet. He gets out of the bed and starts dressing. “How could you do this to me. To us.” He starts breathing heavily. Jon knows he is trying to hold back his tears. “What did I do, Jon? What did I do to deserve this? Haven’t I earned your trust?” His voice is gradually getting louder. “All these times… I thought we were doing this together. I thought we both wanted it. And now you tell me that you’ve— that you’ve hated it all along! I thought we were sharing something beautiful. And now all I’ll be able to think when I remember it is how much you must have hated it. Why did you let me— You never thought about how this would make me feel? What did you think was going to happen? That you would lie to me forever?! I can’t— I can’t even look at you right now.”

This, Jon thinks. Of all of the horrible things he’s lived. The pain, the suffering, the slowly descend to inhumanity, everything they lost. And this, right now, is the worst moment of his life. And he caused it. He lied to Martin so he wouldn’t leave him, and now he is going to lose him all the same.

He doesn’t answer. He’s still crying, soundlessly. Which right he has to defend himself? It was selfish. Everything he did was for himself. To keep Martin by his side.

But in the end, he has to say something, he has to at least try… “Martin—”

“I’m leaving.” He cuts him. “I need some air. Don’t follow me.” Jon stays where he is. Martin grabs his coat and leaves without another word.

Jon waits until he hears the front door closing, and then he finally moves. Wrapping his arms around himself, he lets his head fall to his knees, and cries.

~*~

Martin leaves the apartment and starts walking without thinking, just needing to get away.

He feels horrible. Angry and sad and guilty. Jon was suffering all this time and he didn’t notice. But how could he? He hadn’t been forceful. He’d asked, again and again. He’d tried to give Jon space, to be undemanding, not to take more than he would offer. And still, he’d been wrong.

He’s at the same time drowning in emotions and unable to reach them, still in shock. Is he overreacting? He can’t know. He felt incapable of listening to Jon, unable to even look at him. He needed to leave.

Without him noticing, his have taken him to the park near their flat. He loves this park. After everything, after the apocalypse, they struggled with normality for a while. Trying to return to a life that wasn’t there anymore. Until, some weeks into this new reality, Martin proposed to go on a date. Their first real date. Nothing fancy, and not very original. Movie and early dinner. Afterwards, they decided to get some ice-cream and take a walk. It was summer, after all. They talked about nothing and everything, and from that moment on, piece by piece, everything started to feel right. The end of the day had found them under this same tree where Martin founds himself now. He’d kissed Jon under this tree. They had promised to face their new future together. He had felt so close to Jon, at that moment. Now he wonders if he even knows him anymore.

He remembers Jon’s expression before he left. Eyes wide, filled with emotions that Martin didn’t have the energy to name in that moment. But he knows Jon’s eyes. He was so afraid.

He sits on the bench for hours, until the sky turns dark. He’s still angry, but his anger is calmer now. He’s been contemplating his feelings for hours, and he realizes that he won’t be able to break the spiral of anger, guilt and sadness until he faces Jon and talks to him.

He looks at his phone and sees a message from Jon, from half an hour ago. The message has been deleted. He should go home. It’s not like he’s going to achieve anything by mulling under a tree all night.

He gets up, only now noticing the cold that has inadvertently crawled into his bones at some point.

He returns to find Jon curled up on the sofa, eyes fixed on the black screen of the telly. Martin doesn’t come into the living room, and doesn’t say anything as he goes straight to the bedroom. He changes his clothes, decides against having dinner.

He steps into the threshold of the living room. “I’m going to sleep.” Jon’s head turns to look at him. His eyes are red and puffy. “I think it’s best if we sleep separately tonight.” Jon’s eyes return to the telly, he nods. “I can take the sofa.”

“No.” Jon’s voice is quivery. He continues more firmly. “You take the bed. I’ll stay here.”

For a moment, Martin is about to argue, but then he just nods. “I’ll bring you your pillow.”

~*~

Jon doesn’t sleep well that night. Every time he tries to relax, Martin’s face comes to his mind. Clear as if it were in front of him. His look at that moment, when he’d stopped touching Jon. He squirms and turns all night, trying to keep his mind blank to prevent himself from spiralling into another panic attack. Missing the heat of Martin’s body like he’s never missed anything before.

In the end, he’s able to sleep for an hour or so before the sun starts rising.

He’s awake when Martin comes out of the bedroom. It’s early, especially for a Saturday. He follows all his noises as he moves around the flat. Bedroom, lavatory, bedroom again. He comes into the living room on his way to the kitchen. Jon keeps his eyes closed and his breathing slow. The footsteps don’t stop. Soon he hears the familiar sounds of Martin making tea.

He needs to confront this sometime. He rises and goes to the lavatory first, allowing the quiet noises to let Martin know that he is awake.

When he finally steps into the kitchen, Martin is sitting on the table, sipping his tea. There is a steaming mug in front of the opposite chair.

“Hi,” Jon says. God, he sounds so pathetic, so insecure. He hates this. He doesn’t want Martin to think that he is trying to win his pity.

Martin looks up from his tea. Jon forces himself to hold his gaze. At least today Martin is looking at him in the eye. That has to be an improvement. “Hi.” The angry edge of yesterday’s gaze has disappeared.

Jon sits down, slowly. Giving Martin time to protest, in case he doesn’t want him there. He doesn’t.

“Thank you for the tea.”

“Mhm.”

They drink in silence. Jon wants to say something. Anything. He doesn’t. He finishes his tea.

When he finally puts his mug down, is Martin who breaks the silence first. “We need talk.”

Jon’s head snaps up. “Yes.” Please, yes. Anything but this horrible oppressive silence.

“Yesterday… I was in shock. And maybe I didn’t react in the best way I could. So I’m sorry for that.”

“You don’t need to—“

“Jon.” He cuts him. “Yes, I do.” Martin takes a long breath. “Please, let me say what I need to say.” He waits for Jon’s nod before continuing. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you. And maybe I shouldn’t have left for so long without saying anything. I needed some time to calm down. What you did… That was wrong, Jon. You lied to me. Repeatedly. I thought—” There he needs to stop. His voice having growing louder and unsteady. He takes a moment to compose himself. When he speaks again, he’s calm again. “But I’ve been thinking. And I know you. Despite this, I still think I know you. You wouldn’t do something like this without a reason, at least— I want to think that you wouldn’t do something like this without a reason. You are not cruel.” Jon’s heart hurts. He has to fight the oppressive feeling in his chest that is preventing him from breathing. He doesn’t blink. If he does, the tears in his eyes will fall down and he won’t be able to stop them anymore. “So I want to know why.”

“I—” Jon clears his throat, and tries again. “I’m sorry Martin.”

“I don’t want your apology, Jon. I want an explanation.”

“I know!” he hurries to answer. “I know.”

Martin is looking at him, waiting.

“I don’t like sex. I know it’s not normal. Everyone likes it, it’s natural and beautiful and, most people seem to think, an intrinsic part of what makes us human. But in my case... it’s just not.” He manages to keep his voice steady. “I think it’s...” disgusting “uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel good in the way it does for everyone else. At least I think it doesn’t. I just— don’t feel... any desire. And when someone touches me like that it’s—” he is at a loss of words.

“Disgusting?” Martin supplies. Jon looks at him, wanting to deny it. Martin looks completely horrified. And sad. So sad.

Jon’s throat closes.

Martin must read the confirmation in his eyes, because he gets up and starts pacing through the kitchen, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck, Jon.” He stops, placing his hands on the counter, and takes deep breaths, back turned to Jon. “Then why didn’t you— why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to leave. I love you, Martin.” Martin’s head snaps in Jon’s direction, and Jon can’t look at him. He can’t face whatever expression Martin is wearing. He feels flayed open, vulnerable, waiting for Martin to tell him that that is not love.

But instead, he hears Martin whisper, “You thought I would leave you?”

Jon laughs. It’s not a happy laugh. “I’ve been in relationships before. I know how this works. Some people say that they don’t care, and some of them might even mean it in the beginning. But in the end, it’s too much. Or too little, I guess. They start trying to... convince me, make me change my mind. They said that I just need to relax, try again. Or they told me that if I really loved them, I should be able to do at least that for them, right?”

“Jon.”

“I know you would have tried.” He is sure of that. How many times has he fantasized about telling Martin, and him understanding? Being able to, at least, just be, without suppressing his feelings to try and accommodate other peoples’ needs. But that was just that. A fantasy. “You would have tried until you slowly started to grow sick of me. Tired of putting up with my— peculiarity.” His flaw, his defect.

Martin turns to face him. “Jon that’s—! How can you think that I would ever do that to you?!” He sounds indignant.

“Because it’s the truth!” he shouts back. Martin doesn’t understand it yet.

“So that’s how little you think of me? That I just want you for your body?”

“That’s not what I said.” Of course Martin doesn’t just want him for the sex. There are other parts in a relationship. But this part is one that everyone likes to pretend that doesn’t matter that much, until someone tells them that it’s out of the question. And he is tired of people pretending that it’s not.

“And you were going to lie to me until when? All of our lives? Before even daring to try and explain this to me? Have you never thought that I could understand?”

Jon has. Martin is a kind, empathetic and generous partner. If someone could understand, that was going to be Martin.

“And what now? You didn’t think about what would happen if I found out? When I found out?”

He did. Of course he did. Rather obsessively. But in the end there was only one answer. Every previous experience had taught him what he could expect if he tried to be honest from the beginning. What he has with Martin is too important. He loves him too much. He just couldn’t risk it. Between losing him that first night in the cabin, or losing him some indefinite time in the future? There had never been a choice.

“Tell me, Jon! Is this worth it?”

Jon stares at Martin’s pained face, and for the first time since that night, he doesn’t know the answer.

~*~

After that, Martin had announced that he needed some time to process, and that he’d be at work.

“I’ll be home by seven,” he adds when he sees Jon’s anxious face.

So Jon spends all Saturday alone with his thoughts. Bad idea. He tries to work for a bit, but he is unable to focus, eyes sweeping through the same paragraph again and again. Correcting his 13-year-old students’ exams is not a great distraction. So he puts on some loud music and cleans the kitchen, then the bathroom. Forces himself to eat lunch, cleans the living room. Spends some minutes trying to distract himself with some documentary about seals. Starts making dinner. Tries not to look at the clock.

At nine past seven, he hears Martin’s keys on the front door.

Martin comes into the kitchen, and Jon is waiting at the table, sitting where Martin had been this morning.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

For fuck’s sake, are they going to go through this again?

“I made dinner. If you want some.”

“Oh. Yes, thank you.” Martin offers a tiny smile, almost nothing, but Jon feels himself release the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He allows himself to smile back. “I think— I think we should talk.”

“Yes, I think so too.”

“But can we have dinner first? Honestly, I’m starving. And I want to do this right.”

Jon sucks in a breath. “Of course.” Whatever is going to happen, will happen. After dinner.

They eat mostly in silence. Martin comments on the cleaning, Jon asks for his job. The conversation dies quickly, and none of them are in the mood to keep it going.

When they finish, Jon gets up to do the dishes, but Martin stops him.

"We can do that later. Or tomorrow."

We. So at least Martin won’t leave before they do the dishes. Jon follows him to the living room. Martin sits on one end of the sofa, Jon takes the other. It’s a three-seater sofa, leaving an awkward distance between them.

For a minute or so, neither of them says anything. Then Martin gets up and sits closer, turning to face Jon.

"Look, Jon. I’ve been thinking. A lot. And I’m still angry.” He lets out an unhappy laugh. “I think it’s going to take a while for me to stop being angry. But I think... I think I understand why you did what you did."

He is watching Jon closely. Carefully, he takes Jon’s hand. Jon hears himself take a sharp breath.

"You thinking that I won’t want to be with you if we don’t have sex... honestly, it breaks my heart that you think like that.” Right now Jon hates himself more than ever, and that is saying a lot. Martin carries on, his voice quiet but even. “This morning you said that no one would like to be with you if they knew your true feelings. And that— You were wrong. And every person that has made you think that not wanting sex makes you... unlovable, or at least harder to love... Well, they can all go to hell.”

Martin’s eyes are fixed on his own. Unflattering. Utterly honest. Jon feels his eyes starting to fill with tears, and this time he doesn’t have the energy to stop them.

“And...” Martin hesitates, he gently squeezes Jon’s hand. “If I have been one of those people, then I'm sorry, Jon.”

“What? Martin, no. You are— This is all my fault. I know. You never tried to pressure me, you always asked. It was— It was all me.”

“Maybe I didn’t pressure you. But I also didn’t do anything to stop you from feeling like you had to do this.”

“Martin. I was the one who was afraid of losing you—”

“And now you are not? Afraid.”

“I—” He is. So, so afraid. Martin’s reaction is understandable. Expected even. And he already knew that Martin would say he didn’t mind the sex part. This isn’t the first conversation he’s had on the subject. He knows Martin’s intentions are right. But intentions have never been enough. He just wishes he could avoid Martin all the pain he is causing him.

Martin’s eyes don’t falter. “I love you, Jon. So much. I’m starting to realize that maybe I failed in making you see just how much you are worth to me.” Jon’s heart is drumming in his chest. He feels a tickling sensation in his fingertips, that travels through his entire body and settles in his stomach. “I don’t give a shit if we never have sex again. I’m serious. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are my soul mate, Jon. I never, ever, want you to feel forced to do something that you hate just because you feel you are not enough. Ever.”

Jon is gripping Martin’s hand so hard that he’s sure he must be hurting him, but he needs it to steady himself. Martin doesn’t pull back.

“All those people were wrong and they didn’t deserve you. And you didn’t deserve to go through that. To feel like that.”

Jon sobs.

“You deserve to be loved. And to feel loved. All of you. Always. And—” Martin takes a breath, swallows, “If you let me, if you still want me, I will spend every remaining day, hour, and minute of our lives probing it to you. Because loving you, Jonathan Sims, has been the greatest privilege of my life.”

Martin’s other hand comes to rest on Jon’s face, thumb stroking the ridge of his cheekbone, sweeping away his tears, but they just keep flowing.

Jon’s heart is about to burst. He cups Martin’s hand on his face and leans into it. He whispers Martin’s name, and then they are moving at the same time, Martin pulling him into his arms, and Jon just falling, knowing that Martin will catch him. Always will catch him.

“I love you,” he says, almost inaudible, buried in the crook of Martin’s neck. But Martin must have heard him, because he holds him closer, tighter, and doesn’t let go.

They haven’t fixed everything. There is a lot more to talk about. New boundaries to set. They have to start to know each other again in this facet of their lives. Rebuild their own kind of intimacy.

But for now, sheltered between Martin’s arms, Jon just lets himself be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and also English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> Constructive criticism is appreciated.


End file.
